Chapter 2: The Priest's Rage
The silence left by the chanting was almost louder. It was filled now by the rhythmic, heavy tread of Sukuna’s steps, the faint drip of water somewhere in the dark, and the frantic rabbit-pulse of Megumi’s own heart pressed against his chest. The torches of the altar chamber faded behind them, swallowed by a twisting passageway hewn from the same black basalt.
He didn’t lower her. He carried her cradled against him, one massive lower arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. The heat of him was a shocking contrast to the altar’s chill, seeping into her frozen skin. She was intensely aware of every point of contact: the hard muscle of his chest against her cheek, the rough texture of his skin, the secure, inescapable cage of his arms.She dared a glance upward. His profile was etched against the gloom, a study in arrogant concentration.He wasn’t looking at her. He was navigating the dark corridors with an innate sense of direction.After several minutes, the passage opened into another chamber. This one was smaller, domed, and oddly… lived-in. A massive pile of furs and discarded, richly embroidered robes—offerings from decades of rituals, she guessed—formed a crude bed. A few ancient, massive bones, clean and white, were stacked in a corner like firewood. The air was cooler here, cleaner, without the cloying scent of incense and blood.
Sukuna stopped at the edge of the fur pile and, with a surprising lack of ceremony, laid her down. The fabrics were deep and soft under her. She immediately tried to curl in on herself, to cover her nakedness, but one of his upper hands pressed down on her sternum, not painfully, but with unmovable authority. Another hand, a lower one, caught both her slender wrists in a single grasp and pinned them gently above her head.
“None of that,” he rumbled, his voice a low vibration in the quiet room.His other two hands were busy. One lower hand settled on her stomach, the thumb stroking idle circles around the new, dark mark he’d placed there. It tingled under his touch. The remaining upper hand came to rest on her thigh, his fingers spanning almost its entire width.His touch was disturbingly casual, proprietary.
She stared up at him, her green eyes wide. He loomed over her, a giant of muscle and intent, his four red eyes studying her with a focus that made her feel microscopic and, somehow, like the only thing in the world.
“He’s coming for you, you know,” Sukuna said conversationally, his thumb still moving on her stomach.“The "pretty" priest.Naoya.”
Megumi’s breath caught. A fresh wave of fear, colder and more familiar than the demon’s heat, washed over her.
“He thinks you’ve corrupted me. Thinks his little ritual failed because of some witchy power you possess.” A low, grating chuckle escaped his main mouth. The second mouth on his stomach gave a silent, teeth-baring laugh. “As if a creature like you could command anything.”
His hand on her thigh slid inward, the rough pads of his fingers tracing a line along the sensitive inner skin.She flinched, a full-body shudder that had nothing to do with the cold. A confusing, unwanted heat pooled low in her belly, a traitorous response that shamed her.
“He’ll try to take you back. To ‘purify’ you.” Sukuna’s voice dropped, becoming a possessive growl that filled the chamber. “He will fail.”
The hand on her stomach pressed down more firmly, the weight of it both anchoring and claiming. Then he bent, his immense torso blocking out the dim light from the passage. He didn’t move to the obvious places—not her mouth, not her breasts. Instead, his main lips, surprisingly soft, pressed against the mark on her womb.It was not a kiss of passion, but of sealing. A brand upon a brand.
A soft, involuntary sound escaped Megumi’s throat—a gasp, a whimper.It was too much. The fear, the heat, the overwhelming scale of him, the shocking gentleness of the act contrasted with his brutal words and form. Her mind, trained for silent acceptance, fractured into a chaos of sensation.
Between her legs, a slick, warm dampness betrayed her.It was a physical fact, separate from her terror.It made no sense.
Sukuna’s nose flared.He inhaled deeply against her skin. All four of his eyes opened wider, the crimson light in them intensifying, flickering with a dark, pleased amusement. He lifted his head, a predator catching a tantalizing scent.
“Oh, little bunny,” he murmured, his voice thick with a new, hungry interest. His fingers on her inner thigh applied the slightest pressure, prompting her legs to fall further apart. He watched her face, seeing the conflict of terror and awakening physicality.“What’s this? Not so terrified after all?”
She couldn’t speak.She could only stare, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. The hand pinning her wrists felt like a warm, living manacle. The other hands on her body were mapping her, learning her.From the distant passage, a faint, echoing shout reached them. It was Naoya’s voice, distorted by stone, furious and commanding. “...defilement!...find her!...the demon is bespelled!...”
Sukuna didn’t even look toward the sound. His gaze remained locked on Megumi, on the flush spreading across her pale chest, on the rapid pulse in her throat.“Listen,” he said, almost kindly. “That’s the sound of a bug who doesn’t know he’s already been stepped on.”
He leaned close again, his breath washing over her ear.“He will never touch you again. No one will. This,” his tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her jolt, “this pretty, trembling body.This life.It’s mine. I decide if it’s a meal, a plaything, or a pet.And I have decided.”
Another shout, closer now. Torchlight flickered at the entrance to the passage.
Sukuna finally looked away from her, his upper eyes narrowing toward the disturbance.A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face. The mouth in the palm of the hand that pinned her wrists writhed, teeth snapping silently.
“Stay,” he commanded her, and the word was absolute.
In one fluid, terrifyingly swift motion, he released her and stood to his full, monumental height. He turned, placing his colossal body between her and the chamber entrance.Megumi pushed herself up on her elbows, the furs falling around her hips. She saw Naoya then, framed in the passageway, a curved sword now in his hand instead of the ritual knife, his face a mask of fanatical rage. Two other cultists flanked him, holding torches that shook with their trembling.“Demon!” Naoya spat. “You have perverted the sacred rite!Give me the girl! She must be cleansed!”
Sukuna didn’t bother with a retort.He simply took one step forward. The chamber seemed to shrink around his fury.
Megumi watched, huddled in the furs, a strange, silent witness.The mark on her stomach burned. The dampness between her thighs was a secret, shocking truth. And as Naoya raised his sword with a defiant scream, charging the colossal demon, all she could think was that the priest looked very, very small.